Like vines, our gnarling wandering branches
Will find one another and take hold
For most, the sun seems so desirable
But I would rather reach toward you
Limbs or branches gently curling
We can take it slow, starting with a simple
tangle or snag
Then, things will get complicated
Becoming intertwined. Tentacles tightening.
A knot here and there.
Even our roots will grow together
Like a deck of loosely-shuffled cards
Over time, we will become one.